


A Moment in Love and Death

by WInger



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Battle, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, Romance, Short, Sweet, battle strategy, silver snow, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WInger/pseuds/WInger
Summary: Personal feelings aside, it made the most logical sense that Ferdinand would rather fight with Dorothea than worry over her from the other side of the field.---He pulls her hands firmly until he could feel her snug against his back. It was presumptuously rude of him, and he gritted his teeth as he did it, but as always in battle he simply didn’t have the luxury of time to spare for his usual manners. “Please,” he emphasizes. “Hang on tight.”She sounded more than a little disgruntled when she snapped, “Just ride, Ferdie!”---
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	A Moment in Love and Death

**Author's Note:**

> As I played this very specific mission in Silver Snow I couldn't help but stick the two of them close to protect and cover for the other

Each of them had grown into such outstanding fighters at this point that their commanding Professor’s strategies had grown ever the more aggressive – almost recklessly so – formed on the conviction that each unit could hold their own, and that their peers would not have to so meticulously watch over their backs in real-time. Personally, Ferdinand could not have been prouder to fight alongside a better group of braves. 

But, just _perhaps_, they all rode on their Professor’s confidence a little too much, for this was a fight against the Empire’s forces after all. While he led his own charge to the north-west, explosions and meteorites cackled to his immediate east – the destructive powers of Lindhardt and Dorothea combined.

In spite of the distance, Ferdinand could feel the retaliatory attack from the Death Knight from the sudden thick, cloying smell that filled the air. It was the same _Thunder _spell, but something about it was far more off-putting than Dorothea’s. He turned for half a second to watch the others fight, momentarily concerned for his peers. And in that instant, Dorothea is struck – first by the lightning, and next, slashed and thrown like a doll by the dripping scythe of death.

No matter where he stood on the battlefield, Dorothea’s screams always reach his heart. Before he could think it his body had swung his horse towards for her direction. His destination was an area reduced mostly to rubble, singed by fires from both friend and foe. He hurled a javelin through the chest of a soldier as he neared her, on the ground, conscious, but holding her body stiffly. “Dorothea!” he calls.

She turns, emerald eyes flashing. She raises her right arm, two fingers pointed at him, and he could see it trembling even from afar. The smell of ozone fills his nose, far more benevolent than the previous one. Heaven cracks its whip, and a flash of white lightning momentarily illuminates the field, striking down whoever it was that she’d had her sights on. But her decision to protect Ferdinand’s back came at the cost of neglecting her own. He watches an archer’s arrow whizz through the air and throws his final javelin with all his might, splitting the thin stick in a clean half.

He jumps off his horse and kneels next to her in a swift and well-practiced movement – the picture of chivalry. Normally she would be hurling barbs at him, taking offense that he would dare to treat her like a damsel in distress. But her face is deathly pale and she leans against his professed arm without a word, pinching her lips to hold back from crying out.

He flicks the cork out of the Elixir and gently feeds it to her. Color returned to her cheeks, and she was soon strong enough to take the bottle and finish the rest herself. “Oh, Ferdie,” she sighs. Her hands reach for his shoulders, delicate but firm. He could tell she was about to push herself up; yet they both knew the Elixir wouldn't have taken effect so fast. “You shouldn’t have…”

They were both well familiar with cause and consequence on the battlefield – Dorothea stumbles, as a result of having forced her body to stand prematurely. Ferdinand, having abandoned an advantageous position and left his army to fend for themselves, is in need of a new battle strategy – and fast.

“Thank you for that, Ferdie, but you need to get back there now.” She's quick to chastise, as usual (and sometimes she reminds him of his old nanny in the Empire. Not that Dorothea needed to know). 

“On the contrary,” he says. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He folds his hands next to the stirrups. “Ride with me.”

Dorothea was never much of a rider, though Ferdinand had been teaching her ever since they’d resolved their past misunderstandings, and in return she’d been coaching him on song. Of course, there wouldn’t be a problem if she would be willing to extend the trust. 

His heart soared when she stepped on his professed hand and swung up onto his steed. He got on in front of her, and offered his horse some animal-elixir for good measure. Dorothea slips her arms around his waist delicately, unexpectedly shy. He pulls her hands firmly until he could feel her snug against his back. It was presumptuously rude of him, and he gritted his teeth as he did it, but in battle he simply didn’t have the luxury of time to spare for his usual manners. “Please,” he emphasizes. “Hang on tight.”

She sounded more than a little disgruntled when she snapped, “Just ride, Ferdie!”

He kicks off, instincts taking over as he leaned forward, aggressively pushing for speed. Dorothea’s body slides forward with his. He could feel a ball of energy forming in her hands, which she holds out to their left. The magical wind swept outwards and knocked their enemies against their own weapons and into the moat. She cleared the path for him, and in doing so instilled in him a confidence greater than anything he’d ever felt before. Without stopping, Ferdinand charges straight for the small pavilion, intending to joust the Death Knight off his steed. 

He figured he had a 65% chance of pulling it off, but it turned out the odds weren’t in his favor. It was to be expected, given how the Death Knight had the advantage of weight not just from his exaggerated armor, but also from the souls of the dead. He feels Dorothea’s arms tighten around his chest as they shoot past the enemy and pivot sharply, Ferdinand not wanting to take his eyes off the opponent for anything longer than a few seconds. She crosses her hands over his heart, tingling with magical energy. Ferdinand feels as though all of his sense had been dialed to a maximum as he squints, waiting for the right movement to jump, and evade.

This time, the Death Knight’s lightning strikes them together, but instead of causing damage, it courses through through their bodies and passes straight to the ground. He knows that was all her. Without missing a beat Ferdinand again charges the Death Knight. The skull mask betrayed no emotions, but the slow and graceless movement of his scythe betrayed his surprise at how they’d been wholly unaffected by his spell. With a swish of his blade, Ferdinand lops the head clean off his neck. It was an elegant, well-executed victory, from which he observed a brief, reasonable and well-deserved amount of pride. It does not go unnoticed, as a mile away Caspar roars, spreading the message loud and clear throughout the ranks of their allies. 

“My goodness!" Dorothea titters. “Is that _him_?”

That good-for-nothing, former swords art Professor at the Monastery? Ferdinand had better priorities. “Are _you_ hurt?” he turns, mindful to place a hand behind her so that she wouldn’t slip off the back. She didn’t look that much worse for wear, but she was a fantastic actress and her true thoughts and feelings always alluded him. He could never be too careful watching out for her, especially given that he had to make sure he did it with proper respect for her own abilities, such as not to detrimentally affect the budding friendship that they’d finally managed to establish after so many years-

And then Dorothea surprises him by taking his face and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Congratulations, Ferdinand.” Her voice was a low murmur, and though her hands and lips were cool, a rosy blush was rising across her cheekbones. “That was a magnificent win for us.” 

He never thought he would be sincerely complimented, addressed by his full name and kissed on the lips, all within the span of the same minute by _the_ Dorothea Arnault. A man could dream, but even then, he wouldn't have believed that something like this could ever have happened. He could feel his own face heating up as he met Dorothea’s slightly embarrassed eyes, speechless and momentarily at a loss for reaction.

“Earth to Ferdie? We should go-“

He leans forward slowly, his intent obvious should she feel otherwise about his advance. He wanted to – had to – kiss her again. In the back of his mind he was thinking of their first encounter at that water fountain, when he’d mistakenly believed her for his own daydream, a magical fairy that could not have been real. He sorely missed the mark on that moment then, which was why it was all the more important that he had to be sure of this moment now.

Their lips meet again, and not only could he feel the tip of her tongue against his, the mingling of their breaths; her hands were on his elbows and were gripping tightly, one of her legs curled over his ankle, unsure but at the same time absolutely certain.

“I hate to ruin a moment but we should _really_ figure this out later,” she breaks the kiss with delicacy and spoke, her mouth hovering a mere inch away from his. “We have to get back to the battle.”

“Of course,” Ferdinand licks his lips. He pulls her close again. Their fingers interlock as they head back out onto the field, ready to face the rest of their enemies - together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was so inspired that I wrote and published this within a few hours of completing that stage. 
> 
> If Byleth is the new god and can do everything in their power to quite literally bless the House of their choosing with unquestionable success... what then, is the logic in not allowing us to matchmake characters together with S-rank supports?


End file.
